


Falling, Fallen

by Trespasser94



Series: Falling, Fallen [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Eventual Romance, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29313093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trespasser94/pseuds/Trespasser94
Summary: Nothing happened as it was meant to. Just as all hope is gone, Draco is given a chance to go back to the beginning, to right the wrongs and change their destiny.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Falling, Fallen [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153145
Comments: 46
Kudos: 112





	1. The Whisper in the Abyss

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [Gemkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemkat/pseuds/Gemkat). Log in to view. 



> Credits: This fic was inspired by Draco's Time, a wonderful fic written by Gemkat. I also need to give major credit and love to PTwritesmoreand ALotMoreGinger, without whom this fic would not exist and I would not have had the courage to continue. Major credit to uflesh940 as well, who helped me develop one of the major plotlines for later down the road. 
> 
> Important Note: This fic is a Major AU. There will be some OOC, main characters will be re-sorted, and there will be mentions of violence and character death, though nothing too explicit. This is also a Drarry fic at its core, so there will be romance down the road. If these things aren’t for you, I would suggest not reading.

**Prologue**

This wasn't how things were supposed to end. Harry Potter was supposed to win and the world was supposed to be safe. Voldemort should have been destroyed.

Draco knew he had taken too long to realize his mistakes. They'd only just become friends, and now it was all gone; Harry was dead and everything was lost.

The world around him seemed to move in slow motion. 

Fire. Blood. Darkness. 

His father, coming towards him. 

Anger. Fear. Grief. 

Pain. Absolute. All-consuming. 

Metal. Twisting. Tearing. 

Silver eyes glinting with madness and hatred. 

“You are no son of mine. Harry Potter is dead. The world is ours. Let this failure serve as payment for your treachery.” 

And then...nothing.

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Whisper in the Abyss**

Draco felt nothing for a long time. He was but a sense of self, floating along in a sea of nothing. It was almost a relief, although he knew he shouldn’t feel that way. After everything he’d done, he didn’t serve peace. He should be punished. 

“No, my son. You must cease thinking this way,” came a voice from the nothing. 

The voice rang with power and protectiveness. With his words, the void began to shift. Draco was no longer just a sense of consciousness floating in an abyss; he was human once again. The white around him shifted as well, morphing into a beautiful garden. 

Draco found himself sitting on a bed of soft green grass. A creek bubbled in the distance and the air was filled with a symphony of bees, birds, and a gentle breeze. Flowers of all kinds and colors bloomed around him, filling the air with a sweet scent that soothed his guilt and grief. 

“There now, that’s much better isn’t it?” 

Draco turned towards the voice. Standing behind him was a man no older than 30. He had long black hair and piercing blue eyes. His robes were entirely black, save for patterns of blue that reminded Draco of the night sky. Although the man was young, Draco could sense immense power that would have dwarfed that of Dumbledore and Voldemort. Still, he felt no fear. Somehow, he knew this man would do him no harm. Even if he would, what was left to fear anyway? 

All of a sudden, the memories overwhelmed him once again. His failures, regrets, and grief swept over him like a tidal wave. Just as he thought he would surely collapse under them, 

“ **Enough!”**

The very air in the garden shook with power. Draco gasped for breath as he felt an immeasurable weight being lifted off of him. It was as though the dark thoughts clouding his mind had been trying to strangle him, and had finally relented at the command of this stranger. 

“That’s correct, Draco,” the man said solemnly, “look there,” pointing towards the air above them. Draco obeyed, shocked when he saw what appeared to be a black snake floating in the breeze...only...something was wrong with this snake. Draco had been rather fond of snakes, as he’d known they weren’t inherently evil. This one felt as though it was evil incarnate. 

The man waved his hand and the snake vanished. “It was a curse set upon you by your father. When he killed you, he wanted to ensure you suffered beyond your death. He took your guilt and your grief and magnified them, turning them into that little beast. It would have fed on you for eternity, crushing you beneath the weight of your own emotions.” 

“Who...who are you?”

The man smiled as though at a private joke, “Why...Merlin of course.”

“...Oh...of course…” and then, to his extreme embarrassment, Draco Malfoy fainted.


	2. A Chance at Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dealing with being killed, ending up in a strange place, and humiliating himself by fainting in front of Merlin, Draco has some difficult decisions to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, major love and thanks to my beta PTwritesmore who was absolutely instrumental in writing this series, and this chapter in particular. There's a lot in this chapter so if anyone is confused about anything please feel free to DM me! Please review!

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1! The conception of Merlin and his role in this story is my creation, but otherwise, I own nothing!

**Chapter 2:** **A Chance at Redemption** ****

Draco was confused. Where was he? What had happened? His head was fuzzy and he couldn’t seem to think straight. 

“Well, that’s never happened before,” said a voice from above him, sounding slightly amused. 

Suddenly remembering, Draco bolted upright. His head spun as a result of moving too quickly and he nearly fell again but was caught just in time, “Easy there, just calm down now,” Merlin said gently, easing him into a sitting position on a nearby bench. 

“That’s your advice? Calm down? Oh for the love of Merlin…” he paused, smacking his forehead in frustration. He would have to come up with a new expression at this rate. He almost found the whole thing funny. Who knew dead people could faint? 

This thought didn’t disturb him like he thought it would. He actually found it rather easy to accept. His own father had stabbed him, and there was really no other explanation for coming face-to-face with Merlin. Some instinct told him it was true; the stranger in front of him was Merlin. If nothing else, the massive amounts of magic emanating from the wizard would have convinced him. 

“But hold on,” Draco protested, “aren’t you supposed to be ancient? Long white hair and beard, long staff, that sort of thing?”

Merlin stared at him with slight reproach and Draco winced, mentally scolding himself. Merlin was the most powerful wizard who ever lived. He really should have had more tact. “I just meant...you don’t look the way you were painted at Hogwarts,” he trailed off, nervous about the reaction to his insult, unintentional though it had been.

To his astonishment, Merlin began to laugh, “Don’t look so fearful, Draco,” he grinned broadly, “in the thousands of years I’ve been here, do you really think that’s the worst I’ve heard?” He paused momentarily, gathering his thoughts, “to answer your question, why would I appear as a frail old man if I had another option. Besides, this is much less intimidating, wouldn’t you agree?”

Draco thought it over for a moment and nodded. He hadn’t recognized the man as Merlin before and thought that had most likely been a good thing. “So then...what are you doing here?” 

“Due to my success at guiding young witches and wizards throughout my lifetime, I was given the responsibility of helping them transition into the afterlife. Whether good or evil, I take each witch or wizard to their next destination in the afterlife. Think of me as a ferryman of sorts.”

Fear gripped Draco’s chest once again. He scrambled up from his seat and backed away as far as he could manage. He made no move to escape, however. He knew it was pointless and was strangely relieved that he would be able to atone for his crimes.

Merlin approached him slowly, as though approaching a cornered animal, “no Draco,” he pleaded softly, “do not fear. You are not here to be punished. Nor am I sending you to any type of afterlife.”

Confused, Draco could only stare. 

Merlin sighed, “It pains me to know that you both fear and seek punishment for your past deeds. Please understand, this is not how things were meant to be. You do not bear the weight of your sins alone.”

Draco made to protest, but Merlin held up his hand, “You must listen to me Draco. You were but a child. You must understand that. Your course was decided for you long before you ever had a chance…”

“NO!” Draco shouted, unable to bear it any longer, “I don’t care who you are! You don’t get to decide that! It was my fault! It doesn’t matter if I didn’t kill Dumbledore! It doesn’t matter that Harry chose to forgive me! NONE of it matters!”

He sank to his knees, punching his fists into the ground as hard as he could with each breath he took, determined to punish himself as he felt he deserved. 

“If I hadn’t been so stubborn,” he growled in frustration.

“If I had apologized to Harry sooner!” Draco was shouting now

“If I had just grown a bloody spine and broken away from my father!” His fists were now bruised and bloodied, but he took no notice. 

“None of it would have happened! **I let them in! Me!** ” He screamed in anguish, “Everything that came after that was **TOO LATE!”** Sobs wracked his body as he curled into himself, unable to say or do anything further. His screams and cries of sorrow echoed through the garden as he grieved every loss and regret buried within his soul. 

A hand grasped his shoulder and Draco flinched, unable to help the immediate reaction to another person touching him. He relaxed after a moment, realizing his father would not reach him here, and continued to cry. It was different than before. Instead of feeling as though he was being crushed or suffocated, it felt as though a dam within him had broken, allowing him to release his inner torment for the first time in his life. 

After several moments, his tears slowed until he was able to breathe calmly. Draco found that he felt infinitely better, as though a poison had been purged. It was at this point he registered the pain in his hand. Interesting, he thought to himself, dead people feel pain. He supposed it hadn’t been the smartest thing to do. He’d lost control of his emotions completely, but it had confirmed something he’d often suspected: his father’s policy on a Pure-Blood being above emotions was completely mad. Surely it couldn’t be healthy if what he’d felt was the end result. It was enough to drive a person to an early grave. Draco shook his head again, another unintentional pun. That was going to get old. 

Draco looked at Merlin, surprised and humbled to see nothing but concern on the other wizard’s face. With a wave of his hand, Merlin healed Draco’s injuries, “feel better?” Draco nodded, standing carefully and returning to the bench, “So where does a Wizard go when he dies, if he’s not being punished?” 

Merlin hesitated, studying Draco for a moment, “there are many different options, but I do not want to send you to any of them.” 

“I don’t understand.”

Draco watched as multiple emotions flew across Merlin’s face; anger, sadness, and finally, determination. “The war did not end as it should have. The legacy I strived to create has been destroyed, and the wizarding race along with it. But with you, I see a chance to change it. To restore our world to what it should have been. I want to send you back.”

“Back...you mean...home? To before I died?” Draco wasn’t sure he wanted this. Even if he went back to just before he was killed, Harry had already been dead. What would be the point?

“You’re right, Draco. There would be no point in returning you to the present.”

This caught Draco off guard, “Wait, hold on a second. How did you know what I was thinking?” He realized this wasn’t the first time Merlin had answered one of his thoughts out loud. Was he using legilimency? Draco examined his mind and found his shields were still up. There were no signs of any intrusions, so how was this happening?

“Part of the job description,” Merlin said with a chuckle, relenting when Draco glared at him, “In order to help souls move on to their next destination, whatever it may be, I need to help them through whatever fear, pain, or grief they may be feeling. This place allows me to hear those thoughts, regardless of any magical defense. Rest assured, I hear only what I need in order to help you, nothing more.”

“But why me? After everything I did, surely someone else would be better suited.” Images of Harry, Weasley, Granger, and countless others flashed through his mind. 

Merlin smiled, “You _were_ his friend, or have you forgotten? Without the poisonous thoughts of those around you, you would have been friends much sooner. It was your destiny.”

There it was again. “You keep mentioning destiny, and earlier you said that the war should not have ended the way it did. What did you mean by that? Was Voldemort actually destined to lose?”

Moving to sit next to Draco, Merlin thought it over for several moments, “Destiny is a tricky thing. Certain things are set in stone, others can go either way. While the war could have been won or lost, no one other than Harry could ever defeat Voldemort. In the same sense, certain outcomes would not have come to pass if not for the actions of others, like yours and Harry’s friendship. It’s a very complicated thing, but I do not believe the fate of our race should be to perish at the hands of that abomination” Merlin’s eyes flashed with fire, and Draco was reminded of just how powerful this man was. 

He paused briefly, and then continued, “The other thing to consider is what you have that Harry’s other friends don’t. The fact of the matter is that your destiny was very much intertwined with that of the war. Had you not been led astray, many things would have come to pass as they did.”

Draco grimaced. While he could still feel the overwhelming guilt, he was able to force it aside at the chance of setting things right. 

“Most importantly, however, is Harry. You were correct in your statement that he was the only one who could ever defeat Voldemort. He should have been nurtured, allowed to grow in his strength and confidence. Instead, he was sheltered, manipulated, and abused. ” 

Draco nodded stiffly. He had been rather angry when he learned that not only had Harry been abused, no one had thought to help him. If he had been Harry’s friend, he would have done whatever was necessary to see that he was spared from such treatment. 

“Alright then,” Draco admitted hesitantly, “but that still doesn’t explain why you couldn’t send Harry? If he is the one who was meant to defeat Voldemort, surely he would be the best choice?”

Looking sheepish, which was an odd expression on the wizard, “The truth is that I am breaking a lot of rules by offering you this chance, and even in death, The Powers That Be watch Harry closely. They would know immediately if I were to attempt to send him back in time, and they would put a stop to it. Regardless of what was meant to be, they don’t take kindly to the idea of me, or others like me, tampering with what has already come to pass. In fact, it has never been done before.” 

Even Draco had to admit to himself that this made a lot of sense. No one would think to notice if he was the one who was sent back. Thinking of Harry, and everything he had gone through, “I’ll do it.”

Merlin appeared to be pleased with the firm decision in Draco’s voice, but halted him once again, “Hold on Draco. Before you agree to this, I need to make a request of you.”

Draco was immediately on his guard. He mentally cursed himself; he should have known there would be a price to pay for a chance like this. He motioned for Merlin to continue, bracing himself for anything. 

“Do not worry, I do not intend to deny you this chance if you do not agree to my request. It is one I must make nevertheless. For too long now, our world has been divided. Houses at Hogwarts, blood-status, light and dark, good and evil. This is not the way the world works. One madman has convinced the world that all Slytherins are evil, choosing to ignore that I myself was a Slytherin.”

“What would you have me do?”

“It’s very simple; regardless of what house you and others end up in when you go back, I want you to do what you can to take down the walls that separate you from your peers. I believe that if one generation started this mess, another generation can repair it.”

It didn’t sound so difficult; he’d managed to become friendly enough with students outside of his house after he’d defected from the death eaters the first time, and that was under the most impossible of circumstances. Something Merlin had said made him wonder, “What do you mean, regardless of which house?” 

Merlin smiled and shook his head, “I cannot give you all the answers I’m afraid. However, I would encourage you to think about your sorting the first time and even that of other students. Consider if you may have benefited, or even been better suited for another placement. 

Without further hesitation, Draco agreed, “I’ll do what I can.” 

Merlin clapped his hands together, his face once again lit with a bright smile, “Excellent. I wish you the best of luck. I’ll send a friend to check on you now and again.”

Before Draco had a chance to ask, Merlin waved his hand. The world around him blurred and Draco felt as though he was being pulled into a whirlpool of magic. 

Draco’s last thought was that he was getting tired of falling unconscious; it was embarrassing and inconvenient.


	3. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco wakes up in a strange place once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Love to my readers and as always, major props to my beta PTwritesmore and all the loves to my Larks!
> 
> Trigger Warning: This chapter contains vague mentions of physical, mental, and emotional abuse. Nothing graphic or explicit.

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1! The conception of Merlin and his role in this story is my creation, but otherwise, I own nothing!

**_Chapter 3: A New Beginning_ **

Draco opened his eyes, swaying on his feet. Looking around, he felt as though he’d taken a long fall and landed before expecting to. He opened his eyes and looked around. Had the whole thing been a dream? The idea of meeting Merlin seemed rather far-fetched now that he was no longer face-to-face with him. 

Wait, just where was he? 

The room he was in was decorated in royal blue with gold accents, the furniture handsome and elegant, and hanging on the wall was a poster of...Benjy Williams! His favorite seeker from Puddlemore United! He looked at the soft carpet under his feet, golden with a large Puddlemore crest in the middle. This was his childhood room; it hadn’t been a dream!

Draco walked to the large ornate mirror, his reflection confirming his suspicions. He was eleven years old again, horrid slicked back hairstyle and all. He grimaced; that would be the first thing to go. His hair had always been a source of pride for him, and being forced to wear it this way had been torture. 

He walked through the room, his fingers brushing the furniture that had long since been replaced or destroyed. If this was still here then...he looked towards the corner, a bright smile lighting his face. “My orrery!” he shouted, running towards it. It was a magnificent instrument; displaying the entire galaxy on a miniature scale. Mesmerized by the tiny planets and stars, he suddenly recalled why he had lost it: his father had destroyed it after disastrous occlumency lessons. 

* * *

_“So weak, Draco. How do you intend to shield your mind from those pathetic fools at the ministry if you cannot even protect yourself from me?”_

_Draco was on his knees, the stone floor beneath him had been cold and hard. They’d been at it for hours, and Draco was no closer to being able to shield his mind.”_

_"Legilimens!”_

_Memories flew through Draco's mind. Playing with his mother. Learning the stars on his orrery. Cuddling his stuffed dragon in first year while he cursed Harry Potter. Losing time and again to Hermione Granger. Desire to please. A need to be worthy of the Malfoy name. Wanting to escape._

_No. Not that. Please, not that._

_His father pushed deeper, sneering in disdain all the while. “Pathetic. You will be of no use to me or the Dark Lord when he returns.”_

_Draco tried to resist, but it was too late. His father had never assaulted his mind like this before and his secret was revealed. Draco, reading muggle novels and magazines. Wandering muggle London and admiring a motorcycle, wishing he were old enough to ride one. Talking with a muggle boy who had let him try on his leather jacket._

**_“YOU ARE A DISGRACE!”_ ** _His father had ripped his way through Draco’s mind, causing as much pain as possible. The physical punishment he’d received had been brutal, his father screaming words of vitriol the entire time. It was what came after that had completely broken Draco’s spirit._

_His father had gone into his room and taken his muggle treasures from underneath the floorboards where he’d hidden them, using his wand to set them on fire while Draco watched._

_“This is for your own good Draco,” his father had told him calmly, “we will purge you of your weakness. You will learn who you are meant to be, and you will take your destined place in the Malfoy Family.”_

_When he’d come home from school the following summer, his room had been changed to the one he’d remembered; his quidditch posters, astrology charts, stuffed Dragon, and even his orrery had all been taken. He’d been 12 years old._

* * *

When Draco broke from the memory, he realized with a start that he had completely forgotten about his stuffed dragon and the things hidden under his floorboards. He flung himself to the floor by his bed and pried open the loose boards. There they were! His novels, magazines, and the leather jacket! He held the jacket to his chest tenderly. His father had spent that summer reinforcing the beliefs that anyone other than a pure-blood wizard faithful to Voldemort was no better than dirt.

He put the leather jacket on, admiring the feel and comfort, sat down on his bed, and held his stuffed dragon. He realized at this moment that occlumency must be his priority. 

“You’ll retain your knowledge, but not your abilities”, Merlin had said.

Thinking it through, Draco realized that made sense. A person was born with a magical core, some innately stronger than others. The magical core was able to grow both as the body did, and with practice. In a sense, it was like a muscle that needed to be exercised to improve. Since he was in his 11-year-old body, his core would be the size it had been during this time. He would have to train extensively once he got his wand. 

His occlumency shields were an absolute necessity; no one could be allowed to see the memories of the war and his meeting with Merlin. Even without that, he would never allow his father a chance to humiliate him as he had done before. As he entered his mind, he saw with relief that his occlumency shields were as they had been before he had been “reborn”. He realized this was due to the nature of occlumency; anyone with the knowledge of how to compartmentalize their memories and emotions would be able to properly shield their mind. Because Draco had been allowed to keep his knowledge and memories, not even his father or Voldemort himself would be able to invade his mind. 

“Woopy!” he shouted, calling for the first house-elf he could think of. Although his thoughts on house-elves had changed a great deal, he still found their names to be rather silly, and hers stuck out in his mind. 

A house-elf with large pointy ears, a tiny pointed nose, and enormous sky-blue eyes appeared with a small pop and a formal bow, “Yes, young master Draco? How may Woopy serve you?” Draco was shocked when he first saw Woopy; she looked rather healthy, the pillowcase she wore was clean, and she didn’t have that beaten-down look he’d grown accustomed to. 

After a moment, he remembered that his mother had taken pride in the care of the house-elves before his father had invited the Dark Lord into their home. Once every year or two she would “adopt” one from the house-elf placement agency. She had told his father that more house-elves elevated their position in society, and it reflected poorly on the Family if the servants were in poor condition. Of course, knowing what he knew of her now, he realized that she had treated them well out of the goodness of her heart, and the story she used was just that. He was filled with overwhelming sadness for a moment until he remembered that the war hadn’t happened yet; his mother was still alive!

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he put on his most imperious expression, “I’ve forgotten, what is the date today?” Woopy looked at him for a moment and answered, “It is being Saturday, the 27th of July young master.” 

Draco nodded, “And where are Mother and Father?” 

Woopy looked at him with confusion and concern, “Master and Mistress is being at the Parkinson home today. You was not wanting to be going. Is you alright young master? Can Woopy be doing anything for you?”

Wincing mentally, Draco shook his head, “No thank you Woopy, you may go.” Woopy looked at him with astonishment and disappeared with a small bow. At first, Draco was confused by her expression. “Bloody hell,” he said to himself. He realized that only had he forgotten that his parents were never home on Saturdays, but he had also remembered too late that he never used to speak to the elves so calmly, and he had certainly never thanked them for anything. 

Sitting in his favorite armchair in the corner, Draco sighed wearily. Thankfully house house-elves never questioned their masters; he shouldn’t have to worry about any repercussions from his slip-up. At least his parents weren't home; this stroke of luck meant he could spend the rest of the day planning before seeing them. 

After resting for a few moments and enjoying the peaceful atmosphere of his childhood room, Draco returned to his previous position in front of the mirror. He had important plans to make and things to figure out, but he suddenly remembered that he had access to a large tub and decided a long, hot bath was in order. With the chaos of the war, it had been a very long time since he had been able to enjoy such a luxury. 

Draco slipped on his silk robe and slippers and headed towards the bath, letting out a sigh of relief at the simple comfort of the soft material brushing against his skin. Dark images of chaos and destruction flashed through his mind as he made his way through the dimly lit hallway. As he made his way past the guest rooms and large library, Draco chose to focus instead on the beautiful paintings and tapestries that decorated the walls. He could only hope that time and change would allow him to forget the pain and fear from his previous life.

Once in the bathroom, Draco spent two hours splashing around in the pool-sized bathtub and enjoying the various scented soaps and shampoos. When he was finished, he styled his hair like they had in his third year; neat, but bangs loose and hanging just above his ears.

Draco returned to his room briefly to dress for the day and decided to explore the manor a bit. He needed to plan, and he was always able to think better while moving around. He wandered the various hallways, relishing the feeling of his family home being full of light and free of damage. 

Draco looked at the clock: 5 PM. His parents never returned before 9 when they went on their social outings; he still had plenty of time. He moved to return his possessions to their hiding place and realized he would need a safer place to put them. His father had only left his room alone before because he had no reason not to. Draco had no privacy here, no safety, and no ownership of himself. At this moment, he realized he would need a hideout. He wished he had somewhere like the Order… “That’s it! Dobby!”

Dobby appeared before him, covered in bandages and trembling, “y-yes young master?” Draco was overwhelmed with guilt at the sight. Although his mother had cared for her house-elves, Dobby was his father’s personal elf. His father took great pleasure in beating the elf and even more pleasure in making the elf “punish” himself. Draco’s guilt flared when he remembered that Draco had taken to doing the same, first in hopes of pleasing his father and then as an outlet for his anger. 

“Dobby,” Draco said gently, “What do you know of Harry Potter?” 

Draco couldn’t suppress a smile at the change in Dobby, who immediately straightened, his eyes filled with pride and adoration, “Harry Potter is being the savior of the wizarding world! Harry Potter killed old voldy-mort! Harry Potter is being a hero!” Dobby seemed to realize at this point that he had expressed excitement and immediately began to stammer apologies for stepping out of line and pull at his ears. 

“No. Stop Dobby. I order you not to punish yourself.” 

Dobby stopped, shock and confusion covering his face as he looked at Draco. 

“Has my father mentioned Harry Potter before? What does he say?”

Dobby shook his head, trembling in fear at the thought of speaking about his master.

Draco knelt to Dobby’s level and touched his head gently, patting him softly when Dobby flinched, “I’m sorry for my treatment of you lately, Dobby. I’m sorry for the way my father treats you. I need to know. Tell me, please?” 

Dobby’s eyes welled up with tears and he spoke haltingly, “Master Malfoy is not liking Harry Potter. He is saying that Harry Potter is the enemy who destroyed his lord. Master Malfoy is filled with hate for Harry Potter.” 

“This is going to be hard for you to answer, Dobby, but do you approve of what my father believes?” 

Dobby began to shake his head and reach for his ears, only stopping at the last minute. It was obvious to Draco that the elf desired to punish himself, but was also trying to obey Draco’s order not to do so. After several moments, Dobby whispered, “N-no young master Draco, Dobby is not approving of Master Malfoy.” The house-elf hunched into a ball on the floor, obviously expecting a blow for his answer. 

“Thank you, Dobby,” Draco whispered, being sure to allow the gratitude to show through his voice. 

Dobby raised his head swiftly and burst into fresh tears, quickly rising from the floor and giving Draco a large hug, “Young master Draco is being so kind to Dobby!” 

Draco patted Dobby’s ears awkwardly, wishing he hadn’t when the elf only cried harder at the gesture. “Listen Dobby,” Draco said seriously, “I need your help.” 

Dobby stepped away, rubbing his eyes and blowing his nose noisily into the tattered pillowcase he wore. Draco fought to keep the disgust off his face as Dobby nodded, “Of course, young master. Dobby is being ashamed. What can Dobby do to help you, sir?” 

“I want to help Harry Potter, Dobby. It’s going to take time and work, and I’m going to need a place to hide, as well as a place to hide things I wish to keep secret from my father. I know a place, but I can’t get there myself.”

Dobby hesitated, looking rather nervous. 

“Don’t worry. Father has ordered you to obey me, so he will have no idea so long as you do not tell him. I’m sure you can imagine how he would react if he found out I wanted to help Harry.” 

At this, Dobby’s eyes filled with fear followed by determination, “tell me where you is wanting to go, young master.” 

Draco smiled triumphantly, “Number 12, Grimmauld Place.”


	4. Sorting Things Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Dobby head to Number 12 Grimmauld Place to visit Kreacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See Chapter 1! The conception of Merlin and his role in this story is my creation, but otherwise, I own nothing!
> 
> Author’s Notes: Love to my readers and as always, major props to my beta PTwritesmore and all the loves to my Larks! Special thanks to Kaedmarie for her continuous help and support!

**_Chapter 4: Sorting Things Out_ **

When they arrived in the muggle neighborhood, Draco looked at the space where Dobby was standing, having made himself invisible to prevent exposure. For his part, Draco was dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, and his leather jacket. He smiled at the thought of his father seeing him like this; he was fairly sure the man would drop dead from shock. 

As he approached, number 12 appeared in its dramatic way, shoving the neighboring houses aside. “Go inside and ask Kreacher to allow me entrance,” Draco whispered to the air next to him, “From what I understand, the house would allow me entrance because of my magic, but he’s been alone for six years. I don’t want to enter unannounced,” he paused, thinking he should probably warn Dobby. “Be careful, Dobby. The house is not in good condition, and Kreacher is a bit mad, but he needs to be treated with kindness. Explain to him that I am a Malfoy and that my mother is Narcissa Black. Hopefully, that will be enough for him to allow us in.”

“Dobby is being very careful, young master,” Dobby whispered dramatically, “Dobby will not be disappointing you.” Draco heard a small pop and assumed the elf was gone. He settled down on a nearby bench to read one of his magazines and wait for Dobby to return. 

After 30 minutes, Dobby hadn’t returned and Draco was beginning to worry, pacing in front of the shattered steps. He was considering entering the house despite his earlier intentions, but his instincts told him this would be the best way to approach Kreacher, rather than just walking in unannounced. 

Just then, he heard the tell-tale pop and Dobby’s voice, more high-pitched than ever in his distress, “Dobby is being so sorry for keeping young master waiting! Dobby is a bad elf!” Draco could hear what sounded like Dobby hitting himself and whispered fiercely, “Dobby! I ordered you to cease punishing yourself! It’s alright. I expected some difficulty. Now tell me what happened.” 

At his words, Dobby broke out in rather loud tears, “Young master is being so kind to Dobby! Dobby does not deserve-” 

“Shhh! Dobby!” interrupting the near-hysterical elf, “You have to calm down. Someone could walk by!” taking a deep breath, “Now, tell me what happened.” 

Draco heard a sniff followed by a noise that he recognized as Dobby blowing his nose in his pillowcase again. He must really do something about that, Draco thought to himself as he grimaced. 

After a few moments, Dobby began to speak, voice still trembling slightly with emotion, “Kreacher is being not well and was very upset at Dobby. Kreacher made to attack Dobby and chased Dobby all over the disgraceful house. Dobby was finally being able to calm Kreacher and explain about young Master. Kreacher is to be allowing us inside.” 

“Go home Dobby,” Draco whispered. Dobby made a sound as though to protest, but Draco cut him off, “I know you want to be there, but you have to think about Kreacher. He’s going to be skittish, and you two didn’t get off to a good start. He’s a bit mad, but he’s still a house-elf. Now that he knows I’m a Black, he won’t harm me.”

Dobby was silent for several moments, seemingly dithering between protecting Draco and following orders, “Dobby is not liking the young master going in alone. But Kreacher is needing help. Dobby will go. But young master must promise Dobby he will call if he is being in trouble. And young master must be staying in the main room on the first floor. There is being nasty things in that house, and the young master is not having his wand.” 

Draco was shocked by Dobby’s speech; it seemed the elf truly cared about his well-being. His guilt at his earlier behavior towards the elf, and house-elves in general, intensified. Draco had only shown basic kindness, and Dobby was acting like a completely different elf. “All right, Dobby. I promise.” 

Without another word, Draco approached Grimmauld Place. He’d only ever seen it at night and he was rather shocked to find that it wasn’t any less gloomy during the day. Stepping towards the large and battered front door, Draco braced himself, remembering that the house had been left empty and decaying for the past six years. He reached out to knock on the silver handle, jumping slightly when the door opened, seemingly on its own, releasing the most intense smell of neglect and decay Draco could ever have imagined. It took all of his willpower to step over the threshold and into the dimly lit hallway. 

_“I need this place,_

_There’s no other option_

_I’ll have to escape father, eventually_

_Kreacher needs help”_

Draco chanted to himself over and over. 

Looking to his left, an umbrella stand caught his eye and Draco wanted to vomit. Was that a troll leg it was made of? He shuddered and continued moving. Something was different about the house from the last time he had been there. Of course, it was disgusting, but he had the feeling something was missing. As he walked down the hallways, he spotted the enormous portrait of Walburga Black and realized it was her screams that were missing. Whenever he'd been here before he was with Granger or a Weasley, which set her off at random times. Draco supposed the difference was that he was pure-blood Black. The portrait had no reason to be disturbed. He sneered in disgust at the painting. He would have to find some way to tame the thing or remove it. Even if it was silent in his presence, he had no desire to deal with an insane pure-blood fanatic, especially one that was even more radical than his own father.

A croaky whisper broke Draco from his memories, “Kreacher welcomes you to the house of black. My mistress would be pleased to see young Malfoy in her home, son of most beloved Narcissa.”

Draco swallowed and stood straighter, “Hello, Kreacher. Thank you for allowing me entry into the home of your late Mistress, Lady Walburga.” 

Kreacher stepped forward, “How can Kreacher serve you?” 

Draco paused at the phrasing. “Serve me?”

“Yes,” croaked the house-elf, “Naughty Sirius is in Azkaban. As the only male child of the Black family line, Kreacher is bound to serve you.” 

Of course! Draco was so excited he could have jumped, though he stopped himself in time. He’d hoped that Kreacher would agree to help him, simply for the fact that he was a Black family member, but he hadn’t thought about the fact that with Sirius in Azkaban, he was the only heir available, meaning that Kreacher would automatically serve him. Still, he had to be sure, “How do you feel about such an arrangement, Kreacher?” 

“Kreacher will serve Young Malfoy because Young Malfoy is the rightful heir, but also because Young Malfoy reminds Kreacher of his Master Regulus. Young Malfoy is kind to Kreacher.”

Draco nodded, “Thank you, Kreacher.”

“Would Young Malfoy care to look around the house?” 

Remembering his promise to Dobby, Draco said carefully, “Oh..erm…not today Kreacher.” Draco paused when he saw Kreacher seem to deflate a bit. He found he truly wanted to help Kreacher, he just wasn’t sure how.

“Very well. Is there anything Kreacher can be doing for Young Malfoy?” 

Draco paused to think. The most important thing he could do for Kreacher was to give him purpose again. It was something Granger had never been able to understand. She had been correct about the treatment of house-elves; Dobby had proven that.

Really, what had death done to him, he thought to himself. It was common knowledge to every pure-blood that house-elves as a species needed to serve. To most, being free was more of a punishment than anything else, regardless of how they’d been treated. Draco couldn’t imagine how awful it must have been for Kreacher, bound to serve and yet alone in this house all this time. He nodded to himself; he could help Kreacher both by treating him kindly and tasking him as needed. 

With a sudden inspiration, Draco said, “Yes, Kreacher, there is something I would like you to do for me,” feeling a pang of sympathy when the elf perked up immediately, “I would like you to carry a message to Sirius Black in Azkaban.” 

Kreacher’s demeanor changed completely, “WON’T!” he screamed, “Sirius is being bad! Sirius abandoned my Master and Mistress! Kreacher won’t!” Kreacher began to beat himself and howl in fury. Draco felt ashamed; he knew how the elf felt about Sirius, and his loyalty to his previous master was now clashing with his desire to serve. 

“Kreacher, please!” he shouted. Draco couldn’t be sure if it was the use of please that had done it, but Kreacher stopped immediately, breathing heavily with large tears streaming down his wrinkled face. 

Draco sagged against the wall in relief, jumping away when he felt the grime and cobwebs beneath his robes. Brushing his robes furiously, he made a mental note to spend the entire day in the bath tomorrow. “Kreacher, I’m sorry, I know you don’t like Sirius, but this is really important.”

Suddenly remembering the time, Draco asked, “Would you please take me back to my room at Malfoy Manor, and then hear me out? If you don’t want to after I’ve explained, you won’t have to. Alright?” With a large sniff, Kreacher nodded. Draco moved forward, placing his hand gently on Kreacher’s head, and they apparated out. 

* * *

When they arrived in his room, Draco found he wanted to cry with gratitude at seeing the light and clean space again. He’d only been in that house a short time, but he could still smell it. Resisting the urge to shuck his clothes and drown himself in soap and scalding water, he took a seat in his armchair, facing Kreacher. 

“I need you to promise that you won’t reveal anything I am about to tell you, Kreacher.”

Kreacher didn’t hesitate and seemed almost offended, “Kreacher is being a good house-elf. Kreacher would never betray his master.” 

“I know you are a good house-elf Kreacher, but if my father found out…” Draco paused, not sure how to explain, but Kreacher seemed to understand.

“Young Master would be in danger.” 

Nodding, Draco continued, “You are aware that Sirius was convicted of murdering twelve muggles and a wizard by the name of Peter Pettigrew?” 

The old elf nodded, “Yes. He is being a bad wizard, and a shame to the Family.” 

“No, Kreacher. Sirius was innocent of his crimes,” Draco said carefully.

Kreacher’s eyes widened. He seemed to forget himself, asking forcefully, “How is you knowing this?” 

“I’m sorry, Kreacher, I can’t tell you that. I trust you, but I can’t risk anyone having that information right now. Do you understand?” 

Kreacher nodded, “So...Master Sirius is being...innocent?” He shook his head furiously when Draco nodded, “But...but this does not matter! Master Sirius abandoned my mistress! My mistress is dead and it is being his fault! Master Sirius broke her heart!” Kreacher burst into sobs, dropping to the floor. Draco knew all too well the pain of loss and felt a kinship with the elf he hadn’t expected. 

Kneeling to the floor, Draco placed his hand on Kreacher’s head. “I’m so sorry, Kreacher. I’m so sorry he left. And that Regulus and Walburga died. You don’t have to like Sirius or forgive him. But he doesn’t deserve to be trapped in there.” 

Sometime later Kreacher quieted, looking up at Draco with fear evident in his large eyes, “B-but...if Sirius is to be r-released, Kreacher will have to serve him. Kreacher is a bad elf for saying so, but Kreacher does not want to be serving Master Sirius. Kreacher does not like Master Sirius, but Master Sirius also hates Kreacher, and his house. Even if Kreacher was wanting to help Master Sirius, Kreacher doesn’t think Master Sirius would accept.” 

Now that the elf was calm, Draco moved out of his kneeling position, his knees screaming in protest from being on the floor too long. He winced and sighed in relief as he sat and thought things over for a moment. Draco remembered all too well how Sirius had detested Kreacher and treated him nearly as bad as his father treated Dobby. He was determined that things would be different this time around.

“I understand, but I don’t think you have to worry,” Draco said, looking at Kreacher inquiringly, “if Sirius hated his home so much, do you think he would want to live there?” 

He smiled a little when Kreacher cocked his head in confusion, obviously not having thought about this before. “No, Master Sirius ran away, he will not be wanting to come back to the house or Kreacher,” brightening for a moment, but then hesitating, “but...Kreacher is not wanting to be alone anymore.” 

Draco smiled, and Kreacher looked rather startled at the gesture, “You said that I am the next heir to the Black family line, didn’t you? It seems to me that if I helped him, and Sirius didn’t want to take responsibility for you or the Manor at Grimmauld Place, he wouldn’t have a problem with me taking things over and staying with you.”

Kreacher’s eyes began to shine again, and Draco was petrified he would begin to cry again; he really wasn’t used to handling emotional breakdowns. Instead, Kreacher just asked, “You...you would be wanting to stay with Kreacher?”

Smiling softly at the elf again, Draco nodded, “If that would be alright with you.” 

Kreacher twisted his face into what Draco could only hope was a smile, nearly shouting, “Yes young Master! Kreacher would be honored! Kreacher will be taking very good care of Young Master! Kreacher will help Master Sirius!” 

“Thank you, Kreacher.” Draco rose and walked to his writing desk, penning his message to Sirius. He would have to pick up some things for the man while he was in Diagon Alley next week. “Here you go,” Draco said, handing the note to Kreacher, “Make yourself invisible, and drop this where he can see it. That way you two don’t have to see each other,” he paused briefly as a thought occurred to him. “Will you need to worry about the Dementors?”

Kreacher shook his head, “No, Young Master, Kreacher will not. House-elf magic will be protecting Kreacher.”

“Well...alright,” Draco paused, “But be careful Kreacher, Dementors are nothing to mess around with. If anything goes wrong, come back at once.” 

“Yes, Young Master. Should Kreacher be returning to you after he delivers the note?” 

“No, Kreacher, you’ll have to go back to Grimmauld Manor.” Draco was touched and concerned at the downcast look in the elf’s large eyes. “It’s not safe for either of us if you are here. Besides, someone needs to take care of the Manor don’t they?” 

At this, Kreacher lifted his head immediately, “Of course Young Master! Kreacher is not thinking! Kreacher will take care of the home and Young Master. Young Master will be safe,” and then he surprised Draco by speaking rather sternly, “Young Master is to be calling Kreacher if Young Master is needing anything. Kreacher will take care of him.” 

Chuckling lightly, Draco said, “Alright, Kreacher. I promise.” 

Kreacher nodded and disappeared. It was at this moment that the smell hit Draco’s nose again. Without wasting another second, he threw off his clothes, praying to Merlin the smell could at least be removed from his jacket, and returned to the bathroom where he intended to spend the next few hours scrubbing the scent from his skin. 

* * *

**Interlude:**

_Meanwhile, In Azkaban Prison:_

A large shaggy dog was pacing the confines of his cell restlessly when he heard a loud crack. Suddenly, a crisply folded piece of parchment dropped in front of his paws. He snarled at the air in front of him and sniffed the parchment. It smelled familiar, but he couldn’t figure out why. Sirius had half a mind to shred it with his teeth, but his curiosity won out. Shifting back to his human form, he cautiously picked up the parchment and unfolded it. When nothing happened, Sirius read the elegant script:

_I know the truth._

_You were betrayed by a_ _rat,_

_I intend to help you._

_Look for a delivery from me within the week._

For the first time in ten years, Sirius Black felt a shred of hope.


	5. The First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's relationship with his mother evolves. Draco and Harry meet in Diagon Alley, and this time Draco is determined to do things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See Chapter 1! The conception of Merlin and his role in this story is my creation, but otherwise, I own nothing!  
> Author’s Notes: Love to my readers and as always, major props to my beta PTwritesmore and all the loves to my Larks!

**Chapter 5: The First Meeting**

Draco spent the majority of the next few days alternating between hiding out in his room and working at Grimmauld Place. He didn’t see anything of his father, which he was grateful for, but his mother was a different story. 

The morning after his “rebirth” as he was now calling it, Draco approached his mother’s study. He wanted to see her, hear her, talk with her, and even just be near her again. As he raised his hand to knock, he heard his mother humming, and his hand froze mid-air. Emotions slammed into Draco like the Hogwarts Express, and he found he couldn’t move. 

His heart started to race and his palms started to sweat. Draco was overcome with the memory of the last time he had seen his mother. The pain and grief ripped through him as if it had just happened. His mother continued to hum and he shook his head, trying to dispel the negative emotions. He reminded himself that his mother was alive just past this door, and raised his shaking hand once again. 

"Come in," he heard his mother call. Attempting to swallow the large lump that had formed in his throat, Draco entered the room. 

His mother looked towards him and smiled, speaking softly, “Good morning, my darling. What brings you here?”

Something must have shown on his face, because her eyes grew wide with concern and she rose, “Are you alright?” she asked with worry coloring her tone. 

My Darling; Those were the last words his mother had said to Draco before she died. Before he had a chance to control himself, a choked sob escaped his throat and tears began streaming down his face. Looking at Draco with alarm, his mother swept him into her arms. In between the waves of grief and relief at being held by her again, Draco reflected that he should not be behaving this way. His father had taught him that pure-blood wizards did not show weakness, and his 11-year-old self would not have shown such emotion. 

After a few moments of feeling her embrace, hearing her voice, and smelling her perfume, Draco decided his father could promptly sod-off. He wrapped his arms around his mother and sobbed, basking in the warmth of her hand as she stroked his hair and allowing the sound of her gentle shushing to calm him naturally. 

When Draco had calmed down, his mother gently grasped his chin and raised his eyes to meet hers. She wiped away the remainder of his tears and asked, “What happened, darling? Why are you so upset?” 

Draco winced, unable to answer. 

His mother misunderstood the reason behind his reaction and said, “Don’t you worry, darling. If you need to cry in front of me, you cry. I know your father doesn’t approve, but I’m your mother, and I’m not going to shame you for a normal human emotion.” 

Draco hugged her tighter and thought for a moment; he couldn’t tell her the truth, but he could tell her a version of it. “I..had a nightmare...someone was after me. You...sacrificed yourself to save me. Your last words were ‘I love you, my darling’. I know it wasn’t real but...when you said that just now...” 

“I understand. Nightmares can feel so real. But I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here,” she said as she hugged him fiercely. His mother had no idea it had been no nightmare. It had been his reality, and he was extremely determined that it would not happen again. 

They spent the rest of that day together uninterrupted; his father was away on business. They had lunch together, walked the grounds, and talked about everything. Draco couldn’t help but hug her several times and stayed as close to her as he could, reveling in every moment of it. With every embrace, smile, and laugh they shared, Draco reminded himself that he didn’t need to carry the weight of her death anymore; she was here, alive, and he was going to make sure she stayed that way. 

* * *

When the day came for Draco to journey to Diagon Alley, he found that at first, things happened much as they had the first time. His mother was ecstatic at the prospect of taking him to buy his wand, school supplies, and his owl. His father had scolded her heavily for fawning over Draco and insisted he be sent off on his own. His mother had heavily protested, but his father had only allowed her to give him a proper list before ushering her off without another word.

While Draco would have enjoyed the opportunity to spend more time with his mother, he was relieved that at least this time he knew his way around; last time had been frightening and overwhelming. After reflecting for a few moments, Draco decided it was probably better this way; he may need the ability to move about without the concern of maintaining appearances. 

This was proven when, a few moments later, Draco spotted Harry and the gamekeeper Hagrid. He remembered that Hagrid had the philosopher’s stone with him. On a whim, Draco decided it would be best to do something about it; if the stone never entered Hogwarts, there was no risk of Quirrel getting it. 

Draco moved to a nearby alley and called softly for Kreacher. When the elf appeared moments later, Draco was grateful to see that he was already looking much better; he still looked old and worn down, but at least he was clean and wearing a fresh pillowcase.

“You see that large man over there?” Draco asked, pointing towards Hagrid. 

Kreacher looked to where Draco pointed and nodded his head, “All humans is being tall to Kreacher, but that man is being much too tall."

“He has a stone in his pocket that I need to get from him somehow. If he keeps it, bad things could happen. Can you retrieve it for me without him noticing?” Draco asked hopefully. Draco didn’t have his wand yet, and even if he did, he wasn’t sure he would be able to pull that off just yet. Kreacher thought it over for a moment and nodded, “Of course, Young Master. Kreacher will be retrieving the stone.” Before Draco could ask how he planned to do this, Kreacher vanished. Somewhat alarmed, Draco watched Hagrid and Harry as they walked, hoping the old elf wouldn’t do anything rash. 

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the pop of apparition next to him. A few moments later, the air shimmered as Kreacher came into view, having turned himself invisible. When Draco saw that Kreacher was holding a small brown pouch in his hand, he was so excited he could have cheered, “Thank you, Kreacher!” he exclaimed, “This is amazing!” The elf looked down in evident embarrassment, speaking softly, “Kreacher is being happy to serve. What would Young Master like Kreacher to be doing with the stone?”

Draco paused, debating what to do. He couldn’t let Hagrid discover the stone was missing. If that happened, Voldemort would inevitably find out; there were too many risks to even consider. In his previous life, Draco could have transfigured a look-alike, but there was no hope of that now. Even with his wand, his magic wouldn’t be capable of such a complex spell at this stage. 

Looking at Kreacher, an idea struck him, “would you be able to transfigure something and make it look exactly like that one?” Draco asked.

Tilting his head in a manner that Draco was quickly beginning to refer to as his "thoughtful look", Kreacher stooped over and plucked a random pebble from the ground. As Draco watched, the pebble shifted in shape and color until it looked exactly like the Philosopher’s Stone. Draco wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference by looking. 

“Spot-on, Kreacher!” Draco exclaimed, beaming at the house-elf, who flushed with pleasure at the praise. “Okay,” Draco said matter of factly, “Can you get the pouch back in Hagrid’s pocket, and then take the real stone back to the Grimmauld Manor?”

Kreacher nodded and disappeared, surprising Draco again when he was back in less than three minutes. “Kreacher has returned the pouch with the fake stone to the giant man’s pocket. The real stone is being hidden at home as Young Master requested,"

“Thank you, Kreacher,” Draco said with a smile, “you did a great thing today. Go on back to Grimmauld Manor and I’ll see you later, okay?” Kreacher nodded, gave a little bow, and vanished. 

A weight Draco hadn’t known was there disappeared, making him feel as though he could breathe easier. Still having some time before Madam Malkins, he decided to head to Olivander’s to get his wand. 

Draco walked into the dimly lit shop, surprised at how familiar it felt, even though he’d only been in there once. “Hello, is anyone here?” he called into the seemingly empty shop. “Welcome,” came a voice from behind one of the stacks of wands, “here to buy your first wand, I presume?” Olivander stepped forward, appraising him with piercing eyes. “Yessir, I’m Draco Malfoy,” Draco responded, rather nervous despite himself. “Ah, of course,” the wandmaker rasped, grabbing his measuring tape from the desk. Olivander released it in front of Draco and it began to measure him every which way. Draco wished he could just tell the man which wand was his. 

After several minutes, Olivander disappeared into one of the aisles and returned with the wand Draco recognized as his; hawthorn and unicorn hair. He was surprised when nothing happened as he gripped the wand in his hand. He didn’t have long to reflect on it though, as the wand was snatched from him and replaced with another. Twenty minutes and countless wands later, Draco was beginning to worry. He didn’t have long before he was supposed to be at Madam Malkins, and couldn’t figure out why his wand hadn’t worked. 

Olivander paused and said quietly, almost to himself, “Perhaps I have been going about this all wrong.”

Draco was going to ask the man what he meant, but Olivander shuffled towards a different section of the store. He plucked a wand and handed it to Draco. Immediately, Draco was engulfed by a golden glow and his body was flooded with warmth and joy; he had found his match. 

Olivander looked at him and smiled. 

“Why did it take so long?” Draco asked. 

Olivander chuckled, “I’m afraid it was my mistake. The Malfoy family has traditionally received wands made of Blackthorn, Hawthorn, and Yew. These wands tend to choose those who seek power. Their owners are often fearsome and notorious in their lifetimes. While not always the case, owners of these wands tend to practice the Dark Arts, as many in the Malfoy family have been known to do. I’m ashamed to admit that I allowed prejudice to overcome my judgment. I do apologize.” 

While Draco may have lived a lifetime, his mind was currently that of a child. He had to work for a few moments to restrain himself and control his anger at the judgment. The man had admitted his mistake, after all, and apologized. Besides, he recalled that his father’s and grandfather’s wand had both been made of yew, so he wasn't entirely wrong.

Shaking his head, Draco sighed and waved off the apology, “No harm done. I have my wand now. So, what is this one made of?” 

Olivander smiled again, speaking softly, “Cedar, with a core of unicorn hair.” 

Unable to help his curiosity, Draco asked, “What does this wand look for in a master?” 

“Excellent question, Mr. Malfoy,” he praised. “Cedar wands are known to match with those who possess great strength of character as well as loyalty. They are also known to be very protective of those they love, and quite fierce in that protectiveness. It’s not a wand you find often in the hands of a dark witch or wizard.” 

Ignoring Draco’s stunned expression, Olivander rang up the purchase and bid him farewell. Draco stood in shock just outside of the shop for several minutes. The wand that had chosen him, chose those with character and loyalty? Ever since his death, Draco had been wrapped in self-loathing. It had faded to the background in the time since his rebirth, but it was still very much there. To hear that his wand would not have likely chosen a dark wizard was a gift he hadn’t expected or known that he needed. 

With a start, Draco realized he was running late to meet Harry and broke off at a run. When he made it to Madam Malkin’s, he saw with relief that Harry was just being led to the stool for his fitting. Draco steeled himself and made his way inside, still slightly out of breath. 

“Come on in deary,” Madam Malkin said kindly, “you can step right up here and I’ll get with you as soon as I finish this young man’s measurements.” 

Draco nodded and swallowed, unbelievably nervous. After they’d become friends, Harry had revealed that Draco had been a "pompous git" when they’d first met. Harry had already been feeling stupid and ignorant at this point, and Draco had shot his mouth off. If Draco was honest with himself, he agreed that he had come on rather...strong. 

Draco shook his head and stepped onto the stool, hoping that at least his appearance was a little less pretentious this time around. He turned his head toward Harry, trying to think of something friendly to say. He only succeeded in staring at the boy. 

“What are you staring at?” Harry asked nervously, smoothing his bangs over his scar. Draco remembered that Harry had just been bombarded with admirers and fans a few moments ago and was probably still shaken over it. 

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, deciding truth was the best way to go, “ Honestly, I was just trying to think of something to say. You’re the first person my age I’ve seen today. Are you going to Hogwarts too?” 

“Oh,” Harry paused, looking surprised. “It’s alright, and yes I am,” Harry fidgeted as he spoke, his nerves evident. 

Draco sighed in relief; he hadn’t mucked the whole thing up just yet. “Are you a first-year too?” he asked, making sure to sound curious and hopeful. 

“Yeah,” Harry answered quietly. 

Draco studied the raven-haired boy. He looked as though his nerves were wound so tight, he could break in a moment’s notice. Draco could practically feel the doubt and insecurity radiating from him, so he persevered. 

“What house are you hoping for? I...well...my whole family has been in Slytherin.” Draco paused. He hadn’t realized it until this moment, but he didn’t particularly want to be sorted into Slytherin this time around. With this thought, Draco remembered something from his time with Merlin: 

_“Regardless of what house you and others end up in when you go back...”_

Had Merlin known something about this? 

Harry’s responded nervously before Draco could ponder the matter any further, "I...um..."

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Draco said sincerely, “I didn’t even think to ask if you knew about the houses. Lots of first years don’t. I don't know why no one ever thinks to make sure everyone is informed ahead of time, but I personally don’t think it’s very fair for anyone to be left in the dark. First-year is already scary enough, don’t you think?” 

Harry was silent for a few moments, and Draco was afraid he had offended the boy on accident, until he said quietly, “Yeah. I feel like I don’t know anything. I don’t even know what questions to ask.” 

“Well…” Draco trailed off, nervous again, “If you want, I could tell you about the houses?” 

Harry nodded. “That would be brilliant. What do houses even mean?”

Draco smiled, “A house is where students get placed together. They were created and named after the four founders of Hogwarts; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.” 

“That makes sense,” Harry said thoughtfully. “How do you get placed?” 

“Well,” Draco said, “the story goes that each founder valued different traits in their students. Gryffindor valued courage, Ravenclaw intelligence, Slytherin cunning, and Hufflepuff hard work. Students are placed in their house based on whichever supposedly fits them best.” 

Draco made sure to offer reassurance when he saw that Harry had gone pale, “I know how you feel.” 

Harry looked at him with skepticism, and Draco couldn’t help but laugh lightly, “Okay, so I don’t know _exactly_ how you feel. I was at least informed ahead of time, but knowing what the houses mean doesn't always prepare you. Some know exactly where they should or want to go, but I think most of us have no idea where we belong. I certainly don't." 

“Yeah, I get what you mean. Honestly, though, that’s kind of a relief. Maybe I’m not that far behind,” Harry said, his tone and posture more relaxed than before. 

“Not at all. There are a lot of students that come from muggle families who’ve never heard of magic or anything involving Hogwarts. There’s no harm in it, most everyone catches up pretty quickly. I don't mean to make assumptions, but since you mentioned you were worried about being behind, does that mean your parents are muggles?" 

Draco knew the answer, of course, but he had to ask the question to keep up appearances. His heart ached as Harry’s eyes filled with sadness, “No, they’re magic but...I didn’t grow up with them. They died, and I grew up with my muggle relatives. They...don’t like me much.”

“I’m here by myself as well. My parents are here but my father…” Draco’s throat closed a little, and he couldn’t say more, changing the subject, "Anyway, as I said, there's nothing wrong with coming from a muggle family. Everything seems a little daunting at first, but you'll get the hang of it in no time," he said with a smile, trying his best to reassure Harry. 

It seemed to work. Draco noticed Harry had stopped fidgeting and looked a great deal less nervous than before. Harry returned Draco's smile, surprising him by saying, “Well, I’m here with Hagrid. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him? He’s the groundskeeper at Hogwarts," Harry paused, and Draco nodded for him to continue," Anyway, I’m sure you don’t need help, but you could come shopping with us if you like.”

Draco brightened; he’d figured things were going fairly well, but he wasn’t expecting such an invitation. But Hagrid… “I don’t think he would want me around. My father and my family have a...reputation.” 

“So?” Harry asked stubbornly, “Who cares about that? You aren’t your family or your father. I’m inviting you to come with us. Do you want to?” 

Draco nodded, his heart glowing from such a simple statement. No one had ever absolved him of his family’s crimes before, past life or otherwise. Even though Harry knew next to nothing about the wrongs his family had done, it still felt nice to not be immediately distrusted. 

At that moment, Madam Malkin came and finished up both of their orders. They left the building together, chatting amicably about the things they still needed to gather. As they approached Hagrid, Draco saw the man’s face cloud over with concern. “Harry!” Hagrid said loudly, “What’re ye doin’ with him? He’s a Malfoy! Do ye know what his father is like?” 

Draco deflated slightly, having expected this reaction, and turned to walk away. He was surprised when Harry tugged on his robe to stop him and spoke in his defense, “Stop it, Hagrid; That’s rude. We talked in the store and he seems alright. I invited him to come shopping with us.” 

“I’m sorry, Harry. But..." Hagrid paused, seemingly growing more flustered. Draco guessed he was trying to think of an excuse that wouldn’t offend Harry further. 

“Pardon me,” came a familiar voice from behind him, “Surely you wouldn’t judge a young boy on the actions of his father? Here I thought Dumbledore would expect more tolerance from his staff.” 

Draco turned, facing his mother and smiling in gratitude. After a moment, his happiness turned to fear, “Is anything wrong? Where is Father?” he asked, worried about being caught with the Boy Who Lived, not to mention Hagrid, whom his father detested. 

His mother waved her hand, dismissing his concern, “I was able to step away for a moment. Your father is still in his meetings. You know how he is.” 

Draco nodded seriously and looked at Harry, who was watching the conversation with curiosity and scrutiny, “Forgive me, this is my mother, Narcissa Malfoy. Mother, this is my new friend...I apologize, I didn’t catch your name?” Of course, he knew who Harry was, but Draco thought things might be better in the long run if he pretended otherwise; he knew Harry had hated that everyone knew him before they even saw him. 

The theory was proven when relief flashed in Harry's eyes. He also noticed that despite this, Harry squared his shoulders, seeming to brace himself for something unpleasant, “Harry Potter," he said stiffly, turning towards Draco's mother and holding out his hand, "nice to meet you.” 

Draco could have kissed his mother, he was so grateful. Although there was a spark of recognition in her eyes, the only reaction she gave was to reach out and grasp Harry’s hand, shaking it firmly. “Wonderful to meet you. I apologize for any negative impression you might have been given of my Draco. I assure you that the actions of others in the Malfoy family do not reflect on him.” 

Harry seemed pleased with her reaction as well; he released the breath he had been holding and his shoulders relaxed. Harry shook his head and responded firmly, “Not at all. I wasn’t raised around wizards, and have never heard the Malfoy name before today. I don’t know what Hagrid was talking about, but Draco has been perfectly nice to me. I’ve invited him to come shopping with us,” the request for permission implied.

His mother responded by smiling gently, “That sounds wonderful. I was unable to accompany Draco today, and I think it would be beneficial to him if he were able to gather his school supplies with someone his own age. Unless your guardian would have a problem with that?” she said, looking pointedly at Hagrid, her tone practically daring him to respond negatively.

Draco and Harry turned to look at Hagrid as well, “Uh...er…” he sighed, realizing he didn't have much of an option at this point, “we’d be glad to take yer with us.” 

Draco smiled victoriously at Hagrid and turned towards his mother, “Thank you, Mother.” 

He was shocked when his mother pulled him into a tight hug, releasing him after a moment and placing her hand gently on his head. Something had changed between them since his return; she had never shown him affection like this in public. 

Narcissa reached into her robe and pulled out a pouch filled with galleons and handed it to Draco. “This purse will automatically retrieve money from my personal vault. Get whatever you need for school, and whatever you feel you may need besides.” 

Draco started to protest, but his mother cut him off, bending to whisper in his ear, “Your father isn’t here, and he need not know. You’re just a boy, and I want you to be able to act like one. I trust you to make wise decisions with this money.” 

Nodding, Draco said, “yes ma’am,” and Narcissa rose to her feet. 

“There,” she said, “that’s settled. You go out and have fun, darling. I’ll expect you at the tea shop in Vairtyc Alley by no later than 5. Afterward, we can get some dinner and you can tell me all about your day.”

The idea was so tempting. "But won’t father be angry with you? He gave a very strict budget.” Draco asked, concerned for his mother. 

“You let me worry about him.” She grinned, “It’s your first year. You deserve to have some fun.” 

Narcissa turned towards Harry, a small smile playing on her lips. "You make sure he gets himself something special, alright?” she instructed in mock sternness, as though designating an important task. “Don’t let him worry about what his father might say.”

Harry grinned brightly at her and nodded, “Yes, ma’am.” 

Before Draco could protest again, his mother blew him a kiss and bid him farewell, “Have fun, darling. I’ll see you this afternoon. It was lovely to meet you, Harry.” 

Harry smiled and waved, before he called, “It was nice to meet you too, Mrs. Malfoy.”

With that, she was gone. Draco turned to Harry who said brightly, “Well, let's be off then!” 


	6. A Day to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's first visit to Diagon Alley, all over again. Harry's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See Chapter 1! I own nothing!
> 
> Author’s Notes: Love to my readers and as always, major props to my beta PTwritesmore and all the loves to my Larks! Special thanks go out to Cynthia, Hannahsoapy, Ghostie, and Kaedmarie for their ideas!
> 
> As it says in the summary, this chapter will be in Harry's POV. This chapter was getting really long, so I decided this was a good place to end it. The next chapter will be Harry's POV as well, and then it will alternate between Harry and Draco. Please review!

**_Chapter 6: A Day To Remember_ **

Today was, without a doubt, the strangest day of Harry’s life. If he was honest, it had been a trying day; finding out he was famous was almost more of a shock than discovering he was a wizard. The shock from learning the details of the night his parents died was so great that he immediately blocked it from his mind, hoping to sort through his feelings at a better time. 

Throughout the morning, it seemed as though the hits kept coming. As they walked, Hagrid constantly threw out words and phrases that made no sense to Harry. He was beginning to get frustrated. Not only was he extremely confused by this point, but he was also dying to explore this new and wonderful place. Hagrid, however, was focused entirely on his task of getting Harry school supplies and quickly ushered them from one place to another. 

By the time they’d arrived at the robe shop, Harry felt completely out of his element and was beginning to think Hagrid had forgotten he’d only just learned about magic. His hopelessness was only magnified when he’d met someone his age while getting fit for his school robes. The boy had stared at him, and Harry had figured he was going to comment on his scar like everyone else. He’d been surprised when the boy had apologized for staring and explained his nerves. 

Now that they were shopping together, Harry was extremely excited that he might finally have his first real friend, particularly one that Dudley wouldn’t be able to frighten. As they stood outside of Olivanders, Harry reflected that Draco was likely to be a good friend, if his current behavior was anything to go by. 

“Can you _believe_ that barmy old nutter?” Draco fumed.

“Really, Draco. It’s not that big a deal.” Harry responded, trying to convince both himself and the increasingly irate blond. Truthfully, Olivander had frightened Harry a great deal with that creepy speech, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Draco.

“Not a big deal? Harry,” the blond paused, taking a calming breath, “Olivander compared your wand to Voldemort’s. He made it sound like you could be headed the same way as him, just because your cores were from the same bird,” Draco scoffed, “ _Him_ of all people, I mean really.” 

Surprised that Draco had picked up on exactly what Harry was afraid of, he asked, “Why does it matter who he is?”

Obviously trying to keep the anger from his voice, Draco said carefully, “Because Olivander _makes_ wands, Harry.” Draco sighed and began to pace back and forth. He’s always spouting ideas about how the wand chooses the wizard and the characteristics of wands, as though they were alive. He told me what mine looks for in an owner this morning. Yet he completely ignored that with you, just because of who you are!” 

“So...what does mine look for?” Harry asked, desperate to know after what Olivander had said.

Draco stopped pacing and looked at Harry in shock. 

“What?” Harry asked, “What did I say?”

Without another word, Draco turned around and stormed back into the shop, the door slamming closed behind him. 

Confused by the situation, Harry decided it was best to wait outside, although he made a mental note to go inside after Draco if he wasn’t back in ten minutes. The blonde was obviously angry, and Harry got the sense that provoking his temper was a bad idea. 

Nine minutes and 48 seconds later, Draco emerged from the shop, looking slightly calmer, much to Harry’s relief. 

“I don’t know anything about wands,” Draco admitted, “so I demanded that Olivander tell me about your wand. The wood and its core alone; not that nonsense from earlier.” 

“And?” Harry asked, intensely curious and nervous at the same time. 

“Holly wands are protective of their owners and paired well with those who may experience danger as a result. Phoenix feathers are essentially picky, and the fact that your wand had responded so strongly was a good thing. He also said that holly and phoenix are hard to combine, and the fact that yours did makes it an exceptionally powerful wand.” 

While knowing all of this did make Harry feel a little better, the comparisons Olivander had made still weighed on him heavily. 

Draco seemed to guess this; he walked up to Harry and looked him in the eyes, hesitating for a moment before putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “There is one thing I do know about wands, Harry; they choose the wizard, but they don’t define them. Regardless of what similarities your wand shares with Voldemort’s, it’s what you do with the wand that matters most. Power means nothing compared to what you do with it. So don’t think on it another moment, alright?” 

Harry was captivated by the blond’s words and could see the depth of his sincerity in the silver eyes that were intently staring at him. After a moment, he swallowed and nodded. 

“Alright there you two?” Hagrid boomed, effectively breaking the strangely intense moment. Draco’s hand dropped from Harry’s shoulder and they both nodded. Hagrid had left to get Harry an owl for his birthday and had just returned. 

Harry’s eyes widened as he saw the beautiful snowy white owl Hagrid had chosen for him. “She’s brilliant, Hagrid. Thank you!” 

Hagrid blushed, “Yer welcome, Harry” 

“So,” Harry grinned, turning towards Draco, “where do we go next? We have everything we need, right?” Harry secretly hoped Draco would have more ideas in mind; he didn’t want to return to the Dursleys yet. 

Draco was silent for several moments, staring at Harry, seemingly thinking something over. Harry was starting to get uncomfortable when the blond asked hesitantly, “Harry, how long have you had those glasses?”

Harry was taken aback by the random question, “Erm...two years or so. I should have had them earlier but my Aunt and Uncle…” Harry paused. He wasn’t quite ready to talk about that yet. Thankfully, Draco didn’t question, and just focused on Harry’s current glasses.

“Well, I see they’ve been broken. Would you like to get them repaired? Or, if you prefer, we could look into getting you a new pair or getting your eyes fixed?” 

Stunned at the idea, Harry turned to Hagrid, “Is that something we could do?” he asked, hardly daring to hope.

Hagrid looked away in embarrassment, “Er...yeah. Sorry about that Harry. I didn’t even think of it,” he mumbled. “But yeah...we can head over right now and so somethin’ about yer glasses.” 

Draco sighed in exasperation, “Anyway, do you want to go, Harry?”

Without hesitation, Harry nodded, “Yeah! That sounds brilliant! Thanks, mate!” Harry beamed. 

“Oh...right,” Draco faltered, looking away in evident discomfort, “No problem.” 

Harry observed Draco for the moment, wondering about his reaction. Based on what Harry had seen so far, he wondered if Draco was not used to thanks, praise, or even basic kindness. Harry could definitely relate to that, and it would explain the difficulties Draco seemed to have when he was thanked or even smiled at. 

With that, they began to make their way through Diagon Alley. Harry and Draco quickly decided to stick close behind Hagrid. It was much easier to navigate the crowded streets when everyone quickly moved aside as he passed. There wasn’t much conversation, as the street was now extremely crowded. 

After a few moments, anticipation began to get the better of Harry. He had never been very patient as it was, but now he could hardly stand it. He wished Hagrid would move a little faster. Truthfully, Harry was restless enough that he would have run all the way there if it were an option. He could hardly believe he would finally be getting new glasses. 

With nothing else to distract him, Harry became lost in thought, trying to imagine what it would be like to see clearly again. 

He frowned as he remembered that the only reason he’d been able to get glasses at all was that his teacher had noticed his tendency to squint and rub his eyes when he was trying to read. Harry would forever be grateful that his teacher had started sending letters home when she received no response. The Dursleys had been forced to act or face questions. 

Of course, When Harry was finally taken to get his glasses, Aunt Petunia had gotten him the cheapest and, in her outspoken opinion, ugliest pair possible. Afterward, he was locked in his cupboard for the rest of the day for the “inconvenience” he had caused. 

That was two years ago. Harry hadn’t been to the eye-doctor since and his glasses were old, worn, and getting too small for his face. It didn’t help that Dudley’s favorite activity was seeing if he could punch Harry hard enough to break them. He couldn’t see properly, but well enough that no one raised any further concerns, so he had dealt with it as best he could. 

As they turned into Horizon T. Alley, Harry immediately spotted their destination. It was a standard brick building with nothing to distinguish it from the rest, except for the sign which read “ **Eagle Eye Center** '' in enormous gold letters. The whole thing was large enough that even Harry could see it clearly at a distance.

Most impressive though was the eagle painted next to it, which was large and incredibly lifelike. Harry blinked and jumped back a bit when the eagle moved, ruffling its feathers and tilting its head back and forth.

When they got to the front of the building, Harry noted with relief that it was just a painting. He supposed someone had used magic to make it move. Harry thought it was brilliant, although it was slightly disturbing to see a large bird of prey on top of a building like that. This magic stuff was going to take some getting used to. 

Suddenly, Hagrid spoke up, “Well, here ye are. I’ll be headin’ off fer a bit. Figure I might as well pick up some supplies for the school, long as I’m here an’ all. I’ll be back when yer done.” 

Harry shook his head as Hagrid walked away, but he wasn’t all that surprised. Hagrid seemed to favor leaving Harry to his own devices. 

From behind him, he heard Draco growl in frustration. When Harry turned towards him, he realized that Draco was much more than frustrated. Draco was furious. He had his hands at his sides and was looking at Hagrid’s retreating figure with fire in his eyes. 

“Erm...Draco? Everything okay?”

“I can’t believe him!” Draco burst out, “Not only does he not even think to bring you here; but now that you are here he just skives off! I’m sorry, Harry, I know he’s nice and everything, but it just seems so irresponsible! There are other things you obviously need, and all he thinks of is the list!” 

As Draco finished shouting, he unclenched his fists and let out a heavy breath. He jerked up his head and stared at Harry, as though suddenly remembering where he was. Harry could see the panic in his eyes but was highly suspicious of Draco’s phrasing. 

Narrowing his eyes at Draco, Harry asked, “what do you mean, ‘things I obviously need’?” 

Draco jerked, “Well...erm...you know...your glasses.” 

Getting the feeling there was more to the story, Harry said nothing and waited.

Draco sighed, looking at the ground. Harry noticed he had a habit of doing that when he was embarrassed in some way. 

“I promise I’m not trying to offend you, so please don’t get angry,” Draco pleaded. 

Harry maintained his silence, looking at Draco expectantly. 

Draco spoke haltingly, stumbling over his words, “Your clothes...they’re baggy, worn, and covered with holes,” Draco confessed, “I just...well it seems that if Hagrid brought you here as a guardian of sorts...he should take you to get some new clothes. Even if it’s just jeans and t-shirts, you’d be a lot more comfortable…” Draco trailed off, seeming to brace himself for Harry’s reaction. 

In reality, Harry wasn’t offended at all. Even Hagrid, as nice as he had been, hadn’t mentioned Harry’s clothes or glasses. At once, an idea struck him. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” 

Draco looked up curiously as Harry took off in the direction Hagrid went. He turned back briefly, “I’m not angry. I promise I’ll be right back.” Draco hesitated, then nodded. 

Harry took off in a mad dash after Hagrid and was able to catch up to him rather easily. “Hagrid, wait!” Hagrid turned around, evidently startled by the urgency in Harry’s voice, “Alright there, Harry?” 

“Why did you leave me alone with Draco?” Harry asked hurriedly. 

“Why? Hasn’t done somethin’ to yeh has he?” Hagrid asked, narrowing his eyes and peeking around Harry to look for the blond. 

“No, of course not. Just answer the question, please? You were dead set against him coming with us before.” 

“Oh,” Hagrid said, thinking it over for a moment, “Well, ter tell ye the truth, his mother was right. I was too judgemental at the start. He seems like a nice enough lad, despite his father, and I thought yer may be more comfortable with someone yer own age.” 

Harry nodded in agreement, “I was thinking of going to a few more places.” Hagrid looked weary at this idea and started to protest, but Harry continued before he could, “Maybe I could just go with Draco? I can meet you when we are done?” 

“Well,” Hagrid said carefully, thinking out loud, “Yer safe enough here… and I suppose we did get all yer school supplies, and yeh could use some clothes and such. I’m rather worn out, but you should be able to have some fun, this bein yer first visit and all…” Hagrid stopped to think it over for a moment, “Meet me at five o’clock. At the Leaky Cauldron. Alright?” 

Harry nodded, beaming, “Thanks Hagrid! See you later!” 

Excited for the afternoon ahead, Harry took off at a run towards the eye center. As he got closer, he could see that Draco was pacing back and forth in front of the entrance. 

  
When Draco spotted Harry, he rushed up to him with guilt and worry etched on his face, “I’m so sorry, Harry. I shouldn’t have insulted Hagrid. I have a habit of speaking my mind without thinking.” 

Harry tried to protest, but Draco wouldn’t let him get a word in. After a few minutes, Harry decided to try again, “Draco,” Harry said, but it went unnoticed in the other boys’ ranting. “Draco!” Harry shouted, causing the frantic blond to pause mid-sentence. Harry smiled as Draco blinked his eyes in apparent shock. “I’m not angry with you. I told you I would be back, didn’t I? 

Draco hesitated, as though not trusting what Harry was saying, “Well… yes you did. But why aren’t you angry?”

“Why should I be?” Harry asked, “Yeah, you might have insulted Hagrid a little, but it was true,” laughing, Harry continued, “Besides, you cared enough to get angry on my part. That’s what’s important. Not to mention, everyone else acts weird when they meet me, except you.” 

Harry shook his head briefly, “You’re outspoken and you don’t think when you get angry, but so what? You’ve treated me better than anyone I’ve ever known.” 

Draco lowered his eyes to the ground and said nothing for several moments. While he waited for the boy to collect himself, Harry reflected that this was confirmation of his earlier theory. Draco Malfoy was definitely not used to praise. 

“Why did you run after Hagrid” Draco spoke suddenly. 

“Oh that,” Harry said, caught off guard by the subject change, “Well, you were the one who suggested the clothes and glasses. I figured you might have other ideas, and I want to explore this place.”

Perplexed, Draco asked, “Why did you need to go after Hagrid for that? You could have just asked him later,” he hesitated a moment before adding, “Besides, Hagrid hasn’t really been the best at telling you what you need to know. He’d probably just have you glance at everything.”

“Well,” Harry began,” I knew Hagrid wouldn’t be up for all of that, and then I thought maybe just you and I could go. So I talked to Hagrid, and we’re on our own until you leave to meet your mum…” Harry paused, mortified to realize he had just assumed Draco would agree, “if that’s alright with you?” he asked nervously. Sure, Draco had agreed to go shopping with him, but that had been for school supplies, not spending an entire afternoon exploring.

Draco’s face immediately brightened, “That’s brilliant, Harry! There are so many places you should see! We’ll get your glasses and clothes and then I’ll show you around for real!” 

Harry smiled. Not only did Draco agree, but he seemed to be excited by the idea. Harry was extremely relieved to have someone around who would explain things properly. “Sounds like a plan,” Harry said, looking forward to getting to know his new friend. 

When they walked through the doors of the eye-care center, Harry’s eyes widened at the sight before him. There was so much chaos he couldn’t tell how anything got done. Glasses flew through the air in all directions, some to shelves and some through an archway leading to the back of the office. They arranged themselves over and over, some even knocking each other off to try to take a space. 

Behind the desk sat a pale woman with wild blonde hair and furrowed brows, too absorbed in stacks of parchment to notice their entrance. After waiting for several minutes, Harry considered interrupting the woman. At this moment, however, a tall and slim man with dark-brown skin walked through the door in the back of the shop. His familiar muggle clothing stood out against the wizarding robes Harry had seen all day. From the white coat he wore, Harry guessed that this man would be his eye-doctor. 

When the man spotted the two boys in the doorway, he turned expectantly to the receptionist, shaking his head in bemusement when he saw the chaos that surrounded her. He approached Harry and Draco and introduced himself, “Hello boys, my name is Healer Edwards,” 

Harry made a mental note of the title, internally wincing when he realized he had been thinking “doctor” this entire time. 

“Please excuse my administrator. I’m afraid Miss Ames gets rather caught up in her work and we’ve been rather busy these last few days. How can I…” he paused, examining Harry closer. Harry braced himself, preparing for more unearned gratitude. Harry was relieved when Healer Edwards commented, “What on earth have you been doing to these glasses? They are barely holding together.”

“My cousin...broke them...a few times,” he mumbled, looking at the ground to avoid eye contact. 

“Hmm, alright then,” Healer Edwards said, letting the matter drop, “Well, I could fix these if you want, but I would prefer you get something a little more sturdy, not to mention better fitting.” Healer Edwards paused, thinking for a moment, “Unless you would prefer to correct your eyesight?” 

Harry shook his head, “No thank you. I’ve been wearing glasses for so long, it’d feel weird without them. I would like a new pair though,” he said, eyeing the many options with more than a little excitement. 

“Very well then,” Healer Edwards said, clapping his hands together. Let's get you back to the exam room and see what we are working with here.” 

Harry turned towards Draco and hesitated, feeling guilty about the prospect of the boy sitting in a waiting room for a long time with nothing to do. Draco seemed to read his mind and waved him off, “It won’t take long at all, Harry. I’ll be fine here.” 

Nodding, Harry followed Healer Edwards through the door into the connecting hallway, watching his long black curls sway as he walked. “Where are all the machines?” Harry asked as they entered the exam room, not quite knowing what to make of it. Healer Edwards chuckled good-naturedly, “I thought the same thing on my first visit here; I’m muggleborn as you may have guessed. We don’t need machines. We use magic. 

The idea of someone pointing a wand at his head had Harry slightly wary, “What do you have to do?” 

Sensing Harry’s worry, Dr. Edwards replied, “Not to worry, my boy. It’s a simple set of spells on your eyes as well as the glasses you currently have. It will give me all of the information I need.

Feeling strangely calmed by Healer Edwards’ deep voice and easy manner, Harry nodded and relaxed back into the chair. Healer Edwards cast several spells on Harry’s eyes, making notes as he went along. Harry was immensely surprised when Healer Edwards moved on to his glasses after only ten minutes, casting several spells on them. 

“Mr. Potter,” Mr. Edwards said a few moments later, his voice laced with concern, “how long have you had these glasses?”

Harry shifted nervously in his seat and lowered his eyes to the floor, “A couple of years,” Harry mumbled, “but it’s no big deal. I still see alright, and my family just...hasn’t had the time.” 

Healer Edwards walked over and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “Well, you will have a wonderful new pair of glasses in a few moments.” 

Harry looked up at the man and smiled as Healer Edwards said in a playfully stern voice, “Just remember, you are to come and see me every year so we can keep your eyes healthy. Understood?” Harry nodded, “Yessir” 

Healer Edwards clapped Harry gently on the back, “Now that’s settled, go and pick out your glasses. Then we can add your prescription and discuss any enhancements you may want to make.” 

When Harry got to the front, he was met by a mortified Miss Ames. The woman’s face was flushed and her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, “I’m so so sorry Mr. Potter! That was inexcusable and shameful of me! To think I didn’t even notice when _the_ Harry Potter came into our office! Healer Edwards should fire me...no, I’ll fire myself! Yes, I’ll quit!” 

Harry clenched his teeth and tried his hardest not to say what he was thinking: that this behavior was far more unprofessional than missing when they walked into the store. 

Draco had no such hesitation, “Honestly, Miss Ames. Please, control yourself. You were busy. Harry has been tended to and will be getting his glasses, so there is no harm done and no need for you to quit your job.”

“Dear me...of course, you are right...I apologize,” Miss Ames mumbled through hiccups and loud sniffles. Harry’s jaw nearly dropped as she wiped her face and returned to her desk without saying another word, avoiding their gazes entirely by staring at a fixed spot at her desk. 

Harry stared at Draco in bewilderment and admiration. He couldn’t understand how he could speak to an adult like that. If Draco’s flaw was that he didn’t think before he spoke, Harry’s was that he never spoke at all, at least not when it came to adults. If an adult was making him uncomfortable in any way, he usually just stood there and accepted it. Harry supposed it was a habit born from years with Uncle Vernon. 

At that moment a pair of glasses sailed just past Harry’s ear, causing him to jump back in shock. Draco turned toward the receptionist with a light glare, “Excuse me, but just how is he supposed to pick a pair of glasses if they are flying all over the place?” 

Miss Ames looked up in shock, her face nearly entirely red with embarrassment. She fumbled with her wand for a moment before giving it a wave, causing all of the pairs to rush back to the shelves and place themselves neatly in a spot. 

“Thank you,” Draco said swiftly. Miss Ames nodded and returned to her desk. 

Now that he could move without risking a hit to the face, Harry surveyed the various styles and colors on the shelves. Looking at the shelves in amazement, he wondered why on earth people would want to wear glasses shaped like triangles, hexagons, or diamonds. Harry shook his head and continued looking, relieved when he found the standard rectangle and oval lenses. 

Almost immediately, one pair captured Harry's attention. It was a silver simple wireframe pair with oval lenses shining as they caught the sunlight from the window. He picked them up and put them on, surprised when they magically adjusted to fit his face perfectly; that was handy, he thought to himself.

He moved over to the mirror and was surprised again when his reflection shifted into focus. He looked around and found that everything else was still blurry; he realized it must have something to do with the mirror. Harry was ecstatic to find that he loved everything about these glasses. They were light and comfortable, and he thought they looked much better than the horrid round ones he would be tossing out today. 

Harry turned toward Draco, wordlessly requesting his opinion. Draco studied him for only a moment before exclaiming, “They look brilliant, Harry! Much better than those horrid old things.” Harry laughed, “Thanks, mate. I won’t need to try on any others. I’m going to take these back to Healer Edwards.” 

Healer Edwards was sitting at his desk working through a large stack of files when Harry knocked on the door. “Well,” Healer Edwards said, sounding slightly shocked, “that certainly was fast!” 

Harry shrugged, “You said something about enhancements?” 

“Oh, yes,” Healer Edwards said, “For starters, all of our glasses are charmed to be nearly unbreakable. "Even an Expulso couldn't break them.” The knowledge that even Dudley couldn’t break them set Harry at ease. 

“There are several additional enhancements we can make; they can be charmed to repel against the elements; snow, rain, fog, and things of that sort so that you can see in any weather. I’m sure you’ve already noticed that they automatically adjust to fit your face. That is a permanent feature; they will grow as you do. Lastly, we can charm them to transition, allowing you to see perfectly regardless of the lighting.”

“So... they can turn into sunglasses?” 

Healer Edwards chuckled, “Essentially yes, but it’s more than that. Yes, they will protect your eyes from the sun, but you will also be able to see perfectly in the dark as well.”

“That’s brilliant!” Harry exclaimed, thinking of the darkness of his cupboard. He had Dudley’s second room now, but who knew how long that would last. Now, he wouldn’t feel so afraid if they locked him away again; he would at least be able to see. 

In another 10 minutes, Harry had his glasses. They fit perfectly and he could see better than could ever remember. Healer Edwards came into focus and Harry admired intricate blue flowers decorating his tie; he had thought it was just blue before. 

“We will re-charm the glasses every year when you get an exam. That is unless you choose a new pair, which you are always free to do. If you have any problems or concerns, just send an owl or come on by. Does that sound good?” 

“Yessir, thank you!” Harry exclaimed, unable to keep the smile from his face. 

Healer Edwards returned the smile for a moment before a serious frown crossed his face. He bent down to Harry’s level, looked him in the eyes, and spoke gently, “I think your home situation is less than ideal.” 

Before Harry could respond, Healer Edwards continued, “I also suspect that you don't want anyone to know about it. I just want you to know that no child deserves to be neglected. You should be loved, and not just because you are The Boy Who Lived. I understand why you won't tell me, but promise me you'll tell someone you trust, alright?” 

Swallowing a thick lump in his throat, Harry nodded, unable to speak. Healer Edwards reached out and pat his shoulder, “Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I’ll see you next year.” 

Harry stood in the hallway outside the office, completely gobsmacked. He had never heard anything like what Healer Edwards had said, and it was too much for him to process in addition to everything else. Harry leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing deeply and thinking about all of the things he wanted to do today. He and Draco had made plans. He was going to go out and have fun discovering all kinds of new things. He was going to spend the day with a friend for the first time in his life. Everything would be ruined if he mulled over everything else. 

Mentally shaking himself, Harry pushed all of the dark thoughts into the back of his mind, locking them away.

Not wanting to waste another moment, Harry strode into the lobby and grabbed Draco by the hand, pulling him through the door without a single word. 

If Draco wondered, he didn't comment. Instead, he followed Harry, both excited to see what the rest of the day would bring. 


End file.
